


Not a Tame Spokespersonification

by MiraMira



Category: Allstate Insurance "Mayhem" Commercials, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Family Dynamics, Gen, Narnia, Not Canon Compliant, The Problem of Susan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: The Pevensie siblings - believers and skeptics alike - have been summoned to Narnia once more to cleanse the land of a great evil.  It calls itself...Mayhem.





	Not a Tame Spokespersonification

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingedFlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/gifts).



> This is much, _much_ sillier than anything I intended to write, WingedFlight, but that seems to happen whenever Mayhem is involved. I hope it works for you!

“Lu and Susan arguing again?” asked Peter, as he walked through the door of the family home to find Edmund on the couch, book in hand, flipping pages in studied defiance of the raised voices floating down the steps.

“Yep,” drawled Edmund, without looking up as Peter set down his school bag.

“What about?” 

This time, Edmund lowered the book, turning a raised eyebrow on his brother. “What do you think?”

Peter sighed. “It’d be one thing if Susan didn’t want to talk about Narnia, but I don’t understand this newfound hostility toward the idea it ever happened. If Lucy of all people was able to accept not going back, you’d think she could be reasonable about it.”

“You have to admit, though, it’d be easier if Lucy wouldn’t go out of her way to test the depths of her denial,” Edmund countered.

“Maybe, but...” He broke off as the shouts were replaced by scuffling and a loud thumping noise, followed by a startled scream: Lucy’s, judging from the pitch. Then, silence. Edmund and Peter exchanged an anxious glance, then sprinted up the stairs as one.

There was no sign of the girls, or any sort of disturbance save a few clothes scattered about, and an odd wrinkle in the floor-length mirror by Susan’s bureau. No sooner had the boys spotted the latter then it traveled downward like a rolling wave, and smoothed out into nothingness.

Edmund felt his breath skip. “You don’t think…?”

“Only one way to find out.” With resolute calmness befitting a High King, Peter reached out and touched the mirror with a finger. Sure enough, it gave way as though made of liquid mercury. Half under his own power, half-pulled, he stepped through, the surface closing back over him with barely a ripple left to mark his passing. Edmund followed soon after.

They found themselves in an idyllic woodland glade. The air was balmy, with just the slightest hint of breeze, and filled with the scent of flowers at once alien and so familiar that the boys sheepishly avoided each other’s gaze as they caught themselves obliged to wipe away tears. In their overwhelmed state, it took a moment to notice Lucy and Susan standing meters away, still bickering.

“...never get this mud out in time,” Susan was complaining, with a mournful scowl at the hem of her skirt.

“We just went through a mirror into a forest, and that’s all you have to say?” snapped Lucy, hands on hips.

Susan glared. “No, _I_ hit my head when you pushed me, and this is an unconscious delusion. If no one’s begun administering first aid when I come to, I’m going to be very cross.”

“That will not be necessary,” boomed a loud, majestic voice from behind them, as a dazzling glow suffused the edges of their vision.

They turned, shielding their eyes from the burst of radiance. Peter was the first to regain his voice. “Aslan?”

Lucy let out a delighted shriek and raced forward, flinging her arms around the great lion’s neck and burying her face in his mane. “But you told us we could never return to Narnia!”

“Indeed, Queen Lucy,” said Aslan, stepping back with such dignity that it would be impossible to accuse him of annoyance at the gesture. “Alas, the land is beset by a great evil that I fear only the four of you have the courage and skill to vanquish.”

“Is it the Witch?” asked Edmund, eyes narrowed, the better to conceal the sudden hint of panic in his voice. “Has she returned?”

“Have the Calormenes raised an invasion force?” Peter speculated.

“Has Father Time awakened to signal the end of the world?” guessed Lucy, near breathless in her excitement.

“Will this take long?” Susan demanded. “I have a date.”

Aslan gracefully pivoted to place his back to her, then shook his golden head at the other three. “No. It calls itself...Mayhem.”

-

“That’s it?” Edmund whispered in evident skepticism, as the four peered out at their adversary from their reconnaissance point in a nearby clump of bushes. A short distance away, the figure matching the physical description Aslan had provided stood by the banks of a merrily rushing stream, hands in pockets as he in turn watched a pair of beavers (or Beavers, judging by the size and looks of deliberate concentration on their faces) constructing a dam, oblivious to the danger in their midst. “He just looks like a man in a suit.”

“He needs a haircut,” Susan observed disdainfully.

“Shh!” Peter held up a hand, resting the other on Rhindon’s hilt. He had to admit, the sword seemed like overkill under the circumstances, but he was grateful Aslan had restored it all the same; if nothing else, it made him feel more in control. “Let’s take his measure before we jump to any conclusions.”

Mayhem took his hands from his pockets, rocked back once on his heels, and began a strange sort of narration: “I’m a cracked twig that’s been rubbing against the rocks at the base of this structure. The more weight you place on me, the weaker I get, until I’m ready to snap. In fact, I can feel myself giving way right...about...now.”

As the last word left his mouth, an audible splintering could be heard, followed by rumbling as the entire dam collapsed and floated apart. The Beavers froze in open-mouthed shock amid the ruins of their work for a moment. Seemingly taking note of Mayhem for the first time, they darted a half-resentful, half-fearful glare in his direction, and paddled away.

“With Allstate homeowners’ insurance, you’d be protected from this sort of thing!” Mayhem yelled after their retreating forms.

“Aslan was right to summon us,” Lucy whispered, as she pulled Peter and Edmund into a strategic huddle, Susan being too distracted by a chipped nail to participate. “This sorcerer possesses most fell and powerful magic.”

“Really?” asked Edmund. “Seems a bit...petty to me.”

“Agreed,” said Peter. “Twigs are one matter, but I doubt he will fare as well against steel.” Before the others could object, he stood and placed himself directly in Mayhem’s path, drawing his weapon. “Ho, sirrah!”

“Sirrah?” Mayhem wrinkled his brow. “Don’t think I’ve ever been that before.”

Undeterred by the lack of reverence or recognition, Peter pressed onward with his challenge. “Your campaign of destruction against the good citizens of Narnia ends this day. Will you face me as a man, or die a coward?”

Mayhem studied Peter’s blade: first in confusion, then with thoughtful consideration. “I’m a tetanus infection waiting to happen,” he said at last.

“No man threatens my brother the High King!” proclaimed Edmund, springing from the bushes as Peter’s grasp on his sword wavered. Lucy raced up anxiously behind him, followed by Susan at a more sedate pace. “You fight one of us, you fight us all!”

“I don’t want to fight!” Mayhem yelled, throwing up his hands in evident exasperation. “Why does nobody in this place appreciate the value of sensible coverage?”

“ _I_ do,” said Susan, brushing past her astonished siblings and taking a seat on the ground beside Mayhem, all apparent concern for her apparel vanished. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

Mayhem beamed.

-

“...And that’s why a premium plan will save you far more money in the long run,” Mayhem concluded his sales pitch.

“Well, all that sounds quite reasonable to me,” said Susan, causing the other three Pevensies to rouse from their stupor. “At least, I think it does. I’m afraid I’m not old enough to have any input on our parents’ insurance, never mind purchase it for myself.”

Mayhem slumped. “You’re still the first person--creature, rather--who’s shown any kind of interest since I fell through the sideboard that sent me here. Everyone else just stares blankly or flees when I try to explain how they can take advantage of cash benefits in case of disability. And forget auto policies. This world doesn’t even seem to have discovered oil that’s not of the cooking or lamp variety, never mind the internal combustion engine.”

“Why not go back where you came from?” Edmund interjected.

“Can’t,” said Mayhem sadly. “No branch offices, no TVs...as far as I can tell, I’m stuck unless I can come up with a way to undo or recreate the original accident. And believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Poor thing,” Susan cooed. “Why don’t we take you with us, then?”

“You refuse to accept the existence of magical realms, but walking manifestations of bad luck are perfectly fine?” Peter asked.

Susan ignored him. “Oh, Mister Lion!” she called. “Your problem’s been dealt with. Can I wake up now?”

There was a pause, then Aslan emerged from the bushes, padding toward them. “The foe does not appear defeated, Daughter of Eve.”

“Of course he is,” Susan protested. “He’s completely worn down. All he wants is to go somewhere there are cars and normal houses and no talking animals, and I for one don’t blame him. Did you even _try_ having a conversation with him first?”

Aslan cleared his throat, with what sounded to Edmund like a hint of embarrassment. “Very well. You will find the portal half a league north by northwest, where the stream meets the river.”

“Thank you,” said Susan, all regal coolness. She strode off, Mayhem trailing after her.

“Oh, Aslan!” squealed Lucy the instant they were out of earshot, gathering him up in as crushing an embrace as she could muster. “ _That’s_ why Susan’s been acting like such a beastly grown-up! You made her do it, so she’d know what to do when you summoned us!”

“No one is told any story but their own,” Aslan intoned, notably not resisting Lucy this time as he gazed down on her with a fond smile.

But Edmund shook his head, and muttered as he walked past Peter, “If you ask me, Susan’s on to something with this amnesia business.”

Peter, somewhat to his dismay, found he couldn’t disagree. If nothing else, the High King of Narnia knew he’d be trying to forget _this_ adventure as soon as possible.


End file.
